


Thrall

by forgetcanon



Series: the kind of human wreckage (that you love) [2]
Category: Star Wars Legends: Knights of the Old Republic (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Blood Drinking, F/M, Implied Sexual Content, Mind Control, Vampire Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-04
Updated: 2018-12-04
Packaged: 2019-09-06 22:36:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16841797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/forgetcanon/pseuds/forgetcanon
Summary: “You don’t have to do this,” she said, and her lips remained parted after she was done speaking.Atton’s hands didn’t shake. He had to force them not to slow down as he tossed his jacket aside and started on his shirt. “Actually, I do.”





	Thrall

Of course he’d noticed how Tiniat’s gaze drifted, sometimes. It was one of her few tells. Mira would walk around with her plunging neckline and Tiniat’s eyes would flit over, or Mical would stretch his shoulders, his back, and Atton would turn his head just enough to see Tiniat watching.

It was a reflex. Like a human seeking eye contact. It turned his stomach, but it didn’t mean she was going to follow up.

Except that now, he was unbuttoning the front of his high-collared jacket. And her dark eyes followed his hands with undivided attention.

“You don’t have to do this,” she said, and her lips remained parted after she was done speaking.

Atton’s hands didn’t shake. He had to force them not to slow down as he tossed his jacket aside and started on his shirt. “Actually, I do.”

She stepped in, into his space, utterly comfortable with the way their thighs abruptly touched, how his surprised breath touched her skin. She covered his warm hands with her cold ones. “I can drink from your wrist, you know.”

“I know,” Atton said. When he moved his hands to keep unbuttoning his shirt, she took over. He could feel the way her glamour was starting to affect him, this close, something in the surety of her touch utterly disarming him.

 _Fight her!_ his training screamed. _She’s going to kill you! She’s lying to you! She’ll suck you to a husk and leave your body for the rats!_

Atton swallowed, trying not to think of the way his Adam’s apple bobbed in front of Tiniat’s avid gaze, and put his arms around her.

She chuckled. “I appreciate the enthusiasm, but you’re going to want to sit down for this.”

Atton felt the two of them moving, he was conscious that somehow they went from standing in her quarters to the two of them on her bed. He remembered walking there. But it felt like they’d floated there and now he was in her arms. Mostly in her lap. One of her hands was buried in his hair, supporting his head, while she tugged his shoulder practically out of his shirt. His left shoulder. She was right-handed.

One of his fists bunched in the back of her shirt. To keep his hands from shaking. Her breath puffed on his neck, and it felt almost warm. Her lips brushed his throat, affectionate.

 _Hungry_ , he corrected himself. Mira’d said she was a gentle feeder.

“You can still back out,” she said, and he felt the charm recede, like he’d stepped out of a hot bath. Her knee was digging into his back. His pants were uncomfortably tight around his hips. There was a vampire bent over him, brushing his jaw with her nose. Smelling him, like he might smell a good meal.

“Just _do_ it already.”

Tiniat snorted. “Very well. Whatever the thrall commands.” She stroked his bare shoulder with her free hand, embraced him more fully, cradled him, and Atton tried not to fight the sensation as her cold hand ceased to bother him and her lips pressed against his throat again, not teasing him this time, searching for his racing pulse. And-

Four thick needles jabbing him, clicking together inside him. Atton jolted in her arms and they tightened, strong as iron. He couldn’t get away now if he tried. 

And then her mouth latched on and he moaned. Melted into her hands the way his blood melted into her body as she sucked, hard. The hand bunched in her shirt relaxed, his head tipped back, and she hummed her approval, and he felt like a _genius_. 

Faster than he’d expected, sooner than he wanted, her draughts lost force. She tongued his neck to seal the punctures. He whined in protest; he was barely even light-headed. Could probably walk away. She licked a stripe up his neck, kept lapping at the place where she’d marked him- _cleaning him_ , part of him whispered. _Disinfecting, beginning the healing process. Leaving no trace except the bruising, which will fade in days_.

That done, she stayed close. Kept kissing him lightly, like she was seriously thinking about taking another bite. Humming happily. Her cheek brushed his skin and it wasn’t just warm, it was hot. Flushed. So was her hand as she tugged his shirt back up, but kept her hand on the cloth, running her finger tips along the edge of the fabric.

 _Increased sensitivity to touch_ , Atton thought, as he ran his own fingers up her spine. Even over her shirt, she shivered and sighed. Her lips touched his throat again, lingering. _Increased libido_.

Atton reached up. Dragged his shirt back off his shoulder.

“Oh, Atton,” Tiniat said, voice soft and heavy. Her fingers explored the exposed skin, burning against his cool flesh. “That’s a bad idea.”

“I have lots of bad ideas,” he murmured.

Tiniat chuckled. She started to let him down, to lay his head on her pillow. Atton cursed himself for pushing too hard, but she wasn’t sitting up to go grab him a glass of orange juice. She tossed her shirt in the general direction of wherever the hell his jacket was and looked down at him fondly.

Her wine-dark eyes were full of promise.


End file.
